Service With a Smile
by Jammcakes
Summary: A neurotic barista realizes he can't fulfill his favorite customer's usual order and is trying really hard to hold it together...with a smile, of course. [CoffeeShop!AU LevixErwin]


Professor Bolo Tie arrives at 10:55, stares at his phone while standing perfectly still in line, and orders the same thing every single day. He hands over a folded ten dollar bill, says "keep the change," and leaves with his bear claw and tall skim ice latte without another word. Consistent and efficient: Levi thinks everyone should be like him.

But especially this double-majoring frizzy haired Anthropology student who insists on being a double major waste of time. Twice a day she shows up, and is always having to push the brown frames back from skidding around her face while she cranes her neck up at the menu.

"Hmmm, I just can't decide," she sighs, holding the thick bridge bar to her nose. "What's good today?"

Levi knows Hange Zoe by the dilapidated student ID she pays with, and by the plethora of sweaty palm prints she leaves on the countertop. Her left nose pad popped off sometime last October, and the right has been MIA since her sophomore year. He surmises her meal plan spending boils down to various amounts of caffeine and sugar laced drinks, and despite the facade of spontaneity, always orders two cinnamon scones and some kind of mocha concoction.

"What's good _today?_" he repeats: like they're at _Maria's _on the corner of College Street and not in some hole in the wall cafe tucked behind the University Library's magazine section. "Whatever they baked, froze and shipped outta' Troste on Tuesday is what's good today."

"Watch your mouth," Hange Zoe chides, playfully pinching her dimples while maple eyes scan the smoothie menu, "or twenty percent off~!"

"Oh, I'm still smiling," Levi says, or at least he thinks he is. The insides of his cheeks are shaking, which is as good a sign as any. Unlike the sign looming behind him :"Service with a Smile or 20% off Your Ticket," and the giant yellow happy face cutout trained on his nape with its dead, black eyed gaze, and toothy grin. He dislikes smiles, but teeth…he finds teeth in particular unsettling.

"Are you?" the student teases, squinting down at him. "Not so much a smile as it is a slightly upturned grimace if you ask me…"

The doorbell cuts her off and it is a full Hallelujah chorus that chimes 10:55 as Professor Bolo walks in, eyes glued to his phone when he moves to the back of the roped queue. Bless that man.

The fluorescents hit a particularly shiny sweat print on the counter and the green apron tightens around Levi's throat. He gives the Bic pen in his hand an impatient tap. "Look four-eyes, it's Thursday. You and I both know you're going to order a small peppermint mocha and two cinnamon scones. You'll pay me, leave, and then show up just shy of three minutes to closing time to order a large ice mocha right after I've locked the fridge and stored all the syrups away."

Her glasses ski to the tip of her nose and she pouts. "Fine. But make it one scone, and one bear claw this time," Hange beams before handing over her meal card. The edges are peeling and half of her face is missing from the photo. Something equal parts slick and crusty is lining the back of it that definitely wasn't there yesterday, and the corners of Levi's mouth waver when he swipes it.

He slides the card back over the counter and sidesteps to the brewing station, but not before taking a quick pump from the colossal bottle of hand sanitizer lurking under the counter. God only knows what or who he just touched.

He sets the milk to boil and Levi inscribes four little "i"s on the lid of a styrofoam cup with a sharpie. Whipped cream bottle in hand, he eyes the roped line keeping the freshman fidgeting in place and a safe distance from Professor Bolo in the back. The last bits of snow dusting the shoulders of his coat have begun to melt, and he actually lets it sink into the black fabric like a civilized human being, rather than brushing it off onto his nice clean floor like the rest of the animals coming out of the cold. Yes hello sir, he thinks, topping off the drink with a few pieces of crushed peppermint, you are my best friend and I don't even know your name.

He pauses just as he grabs a piece of bakery tissue for the pastries. That _could _make a decent opening line, he considers, as he opens the display case. Chips of cinnamon fall off the scone as he stuffs it into the bag, and Levi frowns. Maybe it sounds too cliche though.

Hange has her elbows up on the counter, oily hands holding her cheeks in place while her eyes follow Levi's movements. "Still not convinced I don't deserve the twenty off," she snickers, "I could strain spaghetti with that smile."

"…strain more than that," he mutters, plopping the bag and cup in front of her, "cinnamon scone, bear claw, and a peppermint mocha for four-eyes," he announces, ripping the receipt from the register. "Take your food and your greasy elbows off my counter and go: You have a class in three minutes. "

"Crap!" She fishes the bear claw out, and tucks the bag underneath her arm. "See you tonight," Hange winks, turning so fast a crumpled paper shoots out an unzipped backpack flap and careens into the store corner. One of the fresh meat gang calls out after her, but she's already loping past the reference section with half of a baked good dangling from her mouth.

Those precious distracted seconds from the slack jawed freshman buy Levi time to spritz and wipe down the counter. He buffs it until most of the handprints have vanished and he can see the dark outline of his hair and harrowed eyes looking back up at him from the grey marble. Nightmares were costing him sleep. Levi stuffs the cleaning rag into his back pocket.

"Next customer please," he drawls, but takes a moment to scribble on the back of Hange's unclaimed receipt: "a_ cafe that sells half-baked goods to half-baked people at full price." _The cheap ink from pen smears at the period and he frowns. _Too kitschy? _Does it sound like he's trying too hard to be clever? Probably. He adds it to the growing web of his other half baked opening paragraphs and undercooked drabbles under the napkin holder in front of the register. He vows he'll go back to _this one. S_omeday.

But by the time Levi glances up from his word hoard, not a single one of the students gawking at the menu has shuffled forward.

"Next. Customer. Please." He annunciates slower this time so that the baby first years can understand.

A girl with short dark hair and a red scarf wound all the way up to just below her nose starts to move forward, but one of her friends pulls her back by the arm. "Hold on a sec," her friend says, holding up a single finger to Levi. The boy's green eyes dart down to their other companion, "Armin's almost got it."

The smaller of the three's soft features are scrunched up at the menu in a manner similar to that greasy four eyes'. "No…I mean I have it narrowed down to two, but we shouldn't keep people waiting."

The barista grinds the back of his molars to keep his smile from faltering. At least this kid just affirmed his position as the smartest of the idiot trinity. Levi scans their doughy first year faces and pegs them all as frappe drinkers: milkshakes masquerading as coffee are the perfect drink for children pretending at adulthood.

A few steps behind their wide eyes, he catches the Professor's chilled blues and he freezes. Shit, eye contact isn't supposed to happen until Levi's handing him his latte. That way, he's focused on the register and not on how the fair hairs pushed from his part still manage to look perfect and intentional. A moment passes before Levi realizes the man's mouth is curled at the corners and…oh shit, he _is _smiling at him.

Heat bubbles onto the back of Levi's neck because how is he supposed to respond to someone smiling at him when he's already smiling? Smile wider? Nod? No, nodding at someone is extremely creepy; a nod is an agreement. What would he even be agreeing to beyond the norm of their exchange, which is a ten dollar bill for a skim latte and a—

_Bear claw. _

His grey eyes flick over to the bakery case and, between the flourishing rows of croissants and blueberry muffin, is a pathetic desert of flakey crumbs and dried icing. Four-eyes ordered the last bear claw. Life as, Levi knows it, is completely over. He does, however, handle the complete annihilation of the one constant and controlled social interaction he has with professional courtesy and grace:

The sound that follows is an exasperated octave just below a snarl, and it's enough to get at least one of the freshman trinity to stumble to the register.

"Hey there, hi!" says the suddenly chummy brown haired brat that had shushed him earlier. He digs out a plastic card from his letterman jacket and slides it over Levi's clean counter. "So, I was hoping I could pay with this."

It's a meal plan card like Hange Zoe's was at one time: solid clean picture with crisp lettering and without a belt of scotch tape circulating around its middle. _Jaeger, Eren: Undeclared Major; Freshman Class of 104. _

A student-athlete, Levi guesses, and a second-string pick most likely. The dark haired girl next to him…is another story: the kind colleges throw a shit-load of money to get. She's swaddled up in a heavy winter coat, but her stance reveals that there's refined muscle bundled up beneath it. Volleyball, tennis, basketball; hell, she could be the damn quarterback for the football team.

The short blonde to the brat's left is the opposite, based on the fact his book bag looks like it weighs nearly as much as he does. Academic scholarship; probably a double major like four-eyes, but with better grooming habits so far.

Levi holds up the meal card."This all together then?"

"Oh yeah," the Undeclared Eren Jaeger confirms. "Lost a bet at practice earlier. We were trying to see who could—"

_Fascinating story!_ Levi tells his face to think with a reluctant look past the three at the Professor. His head is down, digging something out of his bag and Levi feels…disappointed? As if he could've sent an SOS to this guy: "Save me from this prattling with your habitual order and red slashed stack of Liberal Arts essays." Come to think of it, Levi's not sure what Professor Bolo actually teaches. He assumed it was some kind of Social or Political Science. History, probably; maybe even English.

Not that it matters, he reminds himself with a glance over at where the crumbs of this perfect, consistent relationship remain. He missed the opportunity in between customers to yell at Auruo in the back for what pastries needed restocking . Eld could do it but that would require him actually showing up for his shift on time. Really though, if he could just get this kid to shut up for two seconds, he could do it himself.

"How about a sample?" Levi interrupts some riveting escapade about punching a horse or a horse-faced man. Jaeger could've picked a fight with a centaur for all he cared. "Cranberry muffin. For the three of you. On the house."

The boy stops chattering immediately because nothing snaps a college brat's yap faster than the promise of free food. He looks in turn at each of his shocked companions and nods. "Y-yeah sure. Thanks, man."

The bakery sheet is already in his hand with the case open before Jaeger fully agrees. Levi snatches the last muffin, and stops by the double swinging door to the stockroom. "Auruo! Need a refresh on bear claws and cranberry muffins," he orders, the doors squeaking behind him as he returns to the register. At least one of them offers up some degree of thanks again and he says something really cheesy like how "it's his pleasure" or some shit.

He may yet salvage this relationship.

Meanwhile, Jaeger is looking up at him like he just handed him a one hundred on his midterm. "That's so cool of you, dude! I was leaning towards getting a blueberry muffin to go with a medium caramel frappe anyway."

"Make that two," the blonde pipes up, still squinting up at the menu.

"Yessirs." Called it. He should write it on their cups: baby faced frappe drinker one and baby faced frappe drinker two."And what about you?" he says, pointing his pen at the girl.

She tugs the red scarf down and says "black coffee." Before Levi can ask, she leans forward, dark eyes dead centered on him and repeats: "_Just. B_lack coffee." She then releases the scarf so that it springs back over her mouth.

Levi nods and steps back from the counter; scarf-girl just might be a new contender for his favorite customer with that attitude, unless she's glued to the hips of these two slushie-slurpers. The damn blender is probably older than some of the students here, and while it's only for a few seconds, the shrill clanks and whirls of the old blade send his stomach plummeting. Reminds him of metal wires sinking and shrieking down the side of a wall or snagging against a tree branch. He shakes his head. Such a weird ass association…vivid too. Probably from some traumatic children's book he read as a kid. Four-eyes' Psych Minor might tell him someday.

Black coffee is a far more pleasant task to fulfill in that it's easier on both the ears and the mind. The pot is still warm to the touch from the eleven o'clock batch, but Levi takes it to steal a glance at Professor Bolo through the glass carafe while he pours. He's giving a tug at one of the pine green lapels of his coat before adjusting his bag's strap from kneading into his right shoulder and—Levi blinks. He could've sworn the coat's always been black before, but compared to the dark roast flowing from his hands, it's definitely a green. The color suits him regardless, odd but calming. Commanding

A hot drop hisses over the lip of the cup, and the barista makes as similar noise through his teeth as it hits his wrist. Such a rookie mistake, he curses shaking out his hand before lidding the cup. And for such a stupid distraction. He takes one last look at it: it's a new coat or one of the lights up front is shot.

"Two caramel frappes and a black coffee," and the register screen lights up like a luminol laced crime scene. It's in desperate need of a wipe down and he's careful to add up the total without adding additional smudges. He totals,"$8.83," and swipes Jaeger's meal card.

The receipt buzzes through the printer, and Levi eyes the stockroom doors, wondering why the hell Auruo hasn't shown up, arms brimming with bear claws yet.

"I ASPIRE FOR GREATER THINGS!" the blonde kid says, slamming a palm onto the counter so hard his backpack lurches forward and appears to crush him in place. Even Genius' companions seem taken aback by their friend's sudden outburst: round blue eyes wide and mouth wider still as he points up at the menu. He blinks and raises his shoulders with a nervous giggle, "_Spero Meliora—_i-it's Latin for 'I aspire for greater things' or…'_better_ things' d-depending on the context. I think."

And it hits Levi that all this time the blonde freshman wasn't looking at the menu: The manager sometimes posts trivia questions up on the board to keep the disgruntled coffee cattle from getting too bored. Correct answers merited ten cents off your purchase.

"Is that right?" Jaeger asks.

"Sure," Levi says handing him back his card. Like hell he knows Latin. "Can't do much about the discount though since it's already gone through."

"Oh," Jaeger frowns, "But I mean…if you gave us a dime that would kind of be like the same thing, right?"

"I guess it would," Levi scoffs, but hopes it's close enough to a laugh they don't notice. He bends down for another glob of hand sanitizer. When he surfaces, Jaeger is still at the counter, green eyes wide and expectant.

"Soooo…."

Levi's bottom lip quivers to uphold his smile. The kid is serious: he wants a dime back, even after the free pastry…The barista swallows down the sigh in his throat. "Sure thing," he manages after popping the cash drawer open, "wouldn't want to short change you."

Jaeger laughs as he rolls the coin out. "_Short change!_ That's great, man! Because you're—"

The dime warbles onto the countertop with a resounding echo, and Genius nearly chokes on a tuft of whipped cream next to him. Jaeger's mouth stalls, sputters for a moment, but God help this child, it keeps running: "I just mean it's funny—not because you're short—but because you're little—I mean _a_ little…short… staffed at the moment?"

In one smooth motion, the girl has one arm hooked around Jaeger's while the other cradles her cup of coffee: silent as she hauls him off towards the door, all without spilling a drop. The blonde zips his jacket up and steps forward to give the dime a gentle push back to the other side of the counter. " Iamsosorry, please have a nice day!" he says grabbing the other frappe before tailing after the other two. Levi zips the coin back down into the drawer and applauds them for their system of dealing with their friend's idiocy: a sign of true friendship right there.

At the same time the trio had bolted out, a gangly blonde had used the opportunity to sneak in, and was already shedding his heavy coat to slip into a green apron.

"Eld." The tall youth turns at his name, sporting two new cartilage piercings and a red hickey the size of a donut hole on his neck. "Go back there and tell Auruo to stop fondling the croissants, and bring out the damn pastries I asked for."

Eld finishes snapping his hair back into a loose ponytail and grins. No one ever questions him about a 20% off. "Aye aye, Captain!" he adds a little mock salute as soon as he knots the back of his apron.

The nickname earns the employee a glare that could've ground beans at glance. "How many times have I told you not to call—" but Eld has already vanished behind the squeak of the double doors. Levi muffles the frustrated groan behind a fist.

"Rough day?"

He flexes his hand and drags the nails over the finer hairs sprouting on the back of his neck. "I can't even explain to you—"

And Professor Bolo is standing right there: snow soaked shoulders, leather bag, and ice blue eyes under fair hair. Levi has just breeched the norm of their interaction and the fake smile melts. "You," he swallows, "you're…tall skim ice latte and a bear claw."

"Apparently so," the man smiles. He stands at a perfect distance from the counter, with his perfect hair, and never touches it with his perfect hands. "You're…Levi, yes?"

The low roll in which he says his name in makes his palms sweat like he's that shitty four-eyes. "You know my—?" His fingers brush against the pin clinging to the straps of his apron before he can embarrass himself further. "Name tag…right." He slides his hands down the sides of his jeans. "So, listen, there's a bit of a wait on those bear claws today if you just…wanna forget about it or order something different."

"Oh no, I don't mind waiting, " the Professor says with a quick glance over his shoulders to confirm that there's no one standing behind him.

The barista raises a slender brow. "You sure?" he asks, diverting his focus from the man with a jerk towards the glass case. "I can recommend just about anything in there. Well…except the jam cakes. The jam cakes tend to taste pretty bland."

Somehow the bastard still manages to looks perfect through the distortion of the warped glass. "Tempting…" he says, eyes scanning the rows of pastries, "but if it's alright, I'll stick with the usual. Fresh out of the oven that way."

Levi can't help but snort. "Fresh out of the box maybe. Freshest thing we serve in here are the first years," he says, and the candidness in his voice makes himself cringe: like he's talking to his best friend, which he _is,_ but shit, he doesn't know that.

The man laughs and it's warm and deep, like the first morning boil of a dark roast. "But it's _Captain L_evi, isn't it?" Professor Bolo asks, and the hideous nickname doesn't sound so horrendous the way he says it. "Are you the manager?"

Levi shakes his head. "Shift Manager."

"They're not the same?"

"Only if a TA is a Professor," he replies, wincing when he realizes the analogy might be a little too close to home.

But the Professor smiles, and it's quaint, but sincere without ever revealing any teeth. "Ah, aptly put. Professor Erwin Smith," the constant customer formally introduces, "though 'Tall Skim Ice Latte' is by far one of my more palatable nicknames…especially post mid-term."

Levi recalls the red inked slashes he's seen dotting the stacks of papers in the man—in Erwin's—hand, and he can see why. "Yeah…Should probably get started on that latte," he says and excuses himself from humiliating himself further.

An hour ago, Levi had lived in a perfect world with an abundance of bear claws with his efficient, nameless best friend. Now he's Erwin. They've exchanged pleasantries, oh God they even laughed. All he can think as he adds the skim milk now is that this has to be some sort of nightmare, because now they've set a social precedent beyond drink orders. Now Levi has to think of something witty beyond the price total every time he steps into the cafe. Then, once his charm has run as dry as the day old fritters they sell at half price, he'll stop showing up. For good. Today marks the day he has lost the best friend he has ever had.

"Do you have a favorite drink here?" Erwin's voice bubbles over the clatter of ice, and the nightmare continues.

"Oh. Just straight up black coffee first thing in the morning to wake up," Levi answers, hesitating a little before adding. "I'm more of a tea guy, actually."

"Interesting," the man responds and Levi's chest tightens. It's already starting; he's already bored with him. Over the countertop, he spots a corner where a crumpled piece of paper had rolled into, and his eyes narrow at it. None of this would've happened if Hange hadn't ordered the last bear claw. He eyes the display case and in the process, snags a peek at Professor Erwin, head in its usual downward tilt. Probably looking at his phone, Levi shrugs and pours the drink over a thin cup of ice. He's thankful that, at least, hasn't changed, and hopes as he carries half of his usual order over, he can chalk this whole conversation as a fluke and salvage what's left of their relationship.

Hope, however, arrives through the stockroom door in the form of Eld Jinn's lanky figure. "Finally," Levi turns, completed latte in hand, "how long does it take to get some bloody bear claws?"

Eld's easy laugh makes Levi nervous, and the fact he's nowhere near the bakery case even more so. "Interesting word choice there, Captain," the youth says as he rummages through one of the top cabinets. He pulls down a small first aid kit. "Auruo sliced his palm open trying to open one of the shipment boxes."

Of course he did. "Does he…need to go to the hospital?"

Eld's ponytail bobs as he shakes his head. "Nah, he'll be fine I think. Just going to be a bit of a wait on those pastries, Captain." He grins and Levi watches Eld disappear behind the double doors along with the kit, and the remainder of his sanity.

He sulks to the counter defeated and sets the drink down. "Tall Skim Ice La—"

Erwin's not looking down at his phone.

Erwin's looking down at the back of a receipt laced with handwriting in cheap black ink. Levi's handwriting.

"—te. " He finishes just as the drink slips from his grasp. The lid crumples on impact and a puddle of ice and coffee pool around his feet like a gentle quicksand.

"Shit." Shit, he's not supposed to swear in front of customers but he does it again, "Shit, shit I'm sorry," he apologizes as he lunges over the register to grab several napkins from the dispenser, though their flimsiness makes it so he might as well be mopping up the spill with feathers. They tear as soon as he touches them and it chills the tips of his fingers as cold coffee seeps onto his hands. Incredible, absolutely wonderful.

"Can I help you?" Erwin offers above him, not realizing that Levi, and everything about this relationship, is so beyond help now.

"No, no. I'm fine," he lies with a near sob as little pieces from the torn bundle of napkins sticks to the floor. He stands, and Erwin's hand is already outstretched, offering up another fistful of napkins. "Thanks," Levi mumbles, accepting them. He dries up the remainder of the spill and collects the stray ice back into the cup."Sorry about your drink. I'll make another. No extra cost."

But Erwin waves a dismissive hand. "Please, don't worry about it. In truth, I'm not that thirsty. It's a bit cold outside, anyway."

Levi's eyes narrow. "But everyday…"

"You already have it made for me by the time I get up here."

"Ah…that's true."

Residue from the the spill sticks to the back of Levi's shoe on the way to the trashcan, and he scuffs his heel on the foot petal before throwing the spoiled drink away. In the garbage: would that he could crawl in after forcing this guy to pay for a drink he may not have even wanted. All this time, Levi was Atlas: holding up their shitty consistent world. Maybe Erwin resents him for it.

"Besides, I never wanted to spoil that beautiful smile of yours by telling you I wanted something different."

The barista bites his bottom lip. Or maybe he's just screwing with him.

"Anyway," Levi says, foot snagging on the sticky patch back to the counter. "Sorry you had to witness that fiasco." He picks up the receipt on the counter with his scrawl and crumples it in his hand.

The professor's smile recedes, blue eyes darting from Levi's face to his hand and back again."Was that your—? I'm terribly sorry," Erwin says.

Levi shrugs with faux ease and stuffs it into the front pocket of his apron. "I'm terribly sorry you had to read it," he says cooly. But the mask over his nerves cracks once he sees Erwin pass a few more of the worn receipts over. They must've crawled out from under the napkin dispenser in his haste to mop up the spill.

The horror on his face must be evident because Erwin's brow crinkles to a similar texture of the crumpled papers. "No—no, don't apologize! They're quite good. Better than what most of my fourth years are turning in actually," he says, sounding equally sincere and perturbed.

He's an English Professor; Fiction Writing from the sounds of it, and if what he's saying is true, no wonder his students are getting slashed like day old bagel prices. "Yeah? You should see some of my better stuff," Levi scoffs, taking up the remaining receipts. "I've got a novella on the back of a pizza box I'm working on."

"I'd like to," Erwin says, and Levi laughs until he sees him dig out a piece of paper out from his bag. "Here," he jots down a few numbers from a pen out of his pocket. "These are the times my classes meet next semester. I'm not sure what your schedule is, but if you can only make one of the four thousand level classes, have your advisor call me. I'll sign off on the pre-req forms."

Erwin's script is dark and fluid right down to the dashes. Levi swears he's never seen a sexier looking number four. "That's really…flattering, Professor," he frowns, and pushes the courses back over to the other side of the counter. "The thing is…I'm not a student."

"You're not?"

Levi clicks his tongue. "Nope. Just work here. Could never foot the bill." Now cue the exchanging symphony of false sympathies. Levi is all too familiar with the suites from students, visiting parents…snide ass professors.

"I see…" is how Erwin chooses to start his, though other popular selections include "Oh, I'm sorry," and "Well…that sucks." But when Levi looks up to see the all too exaggerated grimace he's accustomed to, he finds that the man is smiling; grinning, really as best he can without displaying any teeth. Definitely a first for him. "That actually makes things easier, Levi."

And before he can ask, smooth dark ink is flowing from the pen in Erwin's hand again, and he passes back the schedule. At the bottom is ten numbers arranged in such a fashion they almost resemble…a phone number.

"This is…"

"—a much more convenient way to meet, yes?" Erwin finishes, stowing his pen away with a click. "I would normally suggest meeting for coffee, but under such circumstances dinner would probably be a better option, wouldn't you say?"

"Dinner?" Levi almost chokes on the word. "With you?"

The man makes a fist over his laugh as though he's trying to cover a cough. "I would prefer to be present, yes."

Levi's thumb rubs a nervous circle around the phone number. "And this is all to…what?" he swallows. "Discuss my 'work' that you noticed on the back of a receipt for a blueberry tart?"

"That," Erwin says and adjusts his scarf with a casual tug, "among other things I've noticed…"

Levi would've taken a step back had he not had to rip up his foot from sticking to the floor. "I'll…think about it," he responds, folding the paper up into his apron just as Eld emerges from the back room to drop off a bagged pastry on the counter.

Tender disappointment crosses Erwin's features and he tilts his head. "Do you…"

He stops himself and touches the place where his tie should be underneath the swaddle of his scarf before shaking his head. "Please do so," he says with a sad smile and hands him a folded bill before Levi announces his total. "No change."

Levi scoffs. _No chang_e… except for everything today. "Sure. Thanks. Sorry again that it took so long."

He moves to pass the bagged bear claw over to the other side of the counter and freezes when his palm makes contact with the warmed top of another hand over the white crackle of a paper bag. He looks up and Professor Bolo looks just as taken aback, but doesn't move. Internally, Levi groans because they might as well be scripting a bad Rom-Com. Of all the cliches to end this encounter with too: here's the part where the nervous barista reels his hand back to wipe the unexpected sweat accumulating on his neck, while handsome professor gives a polite but awkward chuckle and exits, stage left.

Instead, his hand sinks perfectly in between the grooves of Erwin's fingers; and it's warm and fitted: in the same way a favorite mug feels in the morning, he has held this hand sometime before; has seen the sunrise with it cupped to his lips…

And the other hand squeezes his. "It was worth the wait, Levi."

###


End file.
